Phae Sageblossom
Scalians are not used to big battles. Though their greater speed and cunning make up for a lot, their numbers are too small. Most wars are solved in private events. With words or knives or arrows. For many Scalians this was their first battle. It was complete chaos, far away from the controlled situations they preferred. Phæ did not partake in the battle. Not yet. She sat on a cliff. Watching. A soldier’s mind thinks about killing as many before their heart embraces the inevitable death that hangs looming in the sky. The sage did not think this. Only the demise of one enemy would be worth dying for. Her eyes kept strolling the horizon. She recognised many faces, friend and foe. Her blade was restless. Eager to help her allies. Twice she jumped down from the cliff, twice she walked back up. Her skills were great but not fit for a battle of this size. She wouldn’t last a minute in there right now. After a while the dragons arrived, together with the ships of the western sands. The power that they brought was great but the damage was not limited to the Ka’tah. Distasteful. She wondered if this could not have been prevented. They should have struck when the uprising was just born, while they still lived in huts in the south. Once again mercy and compassion cost them the lives of so many. The wait lasted for an eternity. Her sensed became numb. Her feet fell asleep. Unsure whether she had fallen asleep or not she finally saw her goal. Slashing all those foolish enough to fight him. They were driven by honour, by fear, by panic. They did not live long. Her redemption. It was a long drop downwards but she was not alone. The snow touched her bare feet. The cold awakening her senses. She ran towards the battle. Her long strides and jumps making no sound. Many times, she had to change direction due to obstacles in the way. Those obstacles were more often dead than alive. Sometimes she touched the handle of her blade, but never did the weapon leave its cover. The feet kept running. She was not afraid of being hit, no one would hear her and if they saw here it was already too late. Then she met her goal. Vankka. The Demon King. His shoulders twice as big as hers. He stood towering above the sage. He did not look surprised. He had waited for this. For the first time her blade touched the cold winds of the green lands. She pointed it to the sky. A sign of honour before death. She ran around the man swiftly, the metal touching the ground, leaving a glowing line around them. Now it was as she preferred. One on one. Vankka gave away a look of surprise. His spirit was greater than hers yet he was confined into a circle. The spell used was old, perhaps older than Demonkind themselves. But they did not strike, not yet. One was cautious, the other over-confident. The man struck, quicker than expected of a creature his size. Phæ dodged easily to the side. She hit back but not with enough strength. This continued until the sun started to set. A swift and accurate strike gets blocked with brute strength. A powerful move gets dodged away by a swifter foe. Both knew they could not win like this. Both continued to fight. The war around them slowed down. The fire-lit sky became clear again. Some stopped fighting to look at the duel. They could not look for long until a weapon found its way into their inners. Light started to fade from the sky. Once again Vankka moved forward, Phæ to the side. The sage struck back to his side, the demon smashed her away. Neither gave any openings. Until the king managed to make contact. A hard thrust against her head. Phæ fell to the ground. Her hands pinned into the dirt. The cold blade left the circle and fell down to the ground. The man did not waste any time. He jumped with his full weight, yet without enough speed. Phæ rolled to the side and jumped towards her blade. When her body passed the circle she fell down again. Walls of energy broke down. An explosion filled the darkness. Any soldiers that dared to go close to the circle fell back. The Demon King dropped to one knee, unable to compete with this sudden burst of energy. Violet eyes opened, frantically searching for her weapon. When she spotted the tortured blade, she got to her feet and walked towards it. Her sight was blurry, her movements clumsy. Once again she fell down. Fatigue finally taking its toll, young muscles protesting. She pushed her arm forward towards the hilt. When she touched her sword a surge of energy left the cold steel and entered the warm flesh. She jumped up in surprise. The dark steel started to glow. A pale blue light filling the dusk. Strange techniques clouded her mind. Ancient arts that she knew without learning. Could do without training. They were not in her brain; they were in her blood. She turned around to face Vankka. A burning flame of light in her hand. Her conscious slipped away. The last thing she saw were alien reflections of herself in the sky. She returned to this world in a circular stone structure. It spiralled down into the earth, in the centre a massive dark blue pillar decorated with golden words and figures, both Demonic and Braeðyrian. Only once had she been here before, to give her blessing. The structure was called the Eternia. Hoped to be an Eternal prison. When the demons entered this world the Scalians protested. But most others called for peace. But the Skypeople do too often not listen to others. This time, however, they were right. Secretly they started building in the woods south of Burgundys. It was meant to hold a Spirit. Enough space for a giant. Perhaps even for one the Hæmiran’s gods. Phæ got up and strolled down the stone floor. Spiralling down. The decorated wall disgraced as support for needy legs. There were not many people down there. The project’s secrecy called for a slim crew. Only two she recognised. The rest were unknown to her, masters of the darker side of the world. Some people congratulated her on her battle. She nodded slowly at them, a faint smile formed on her face. She did not remember anything of the battle. Slowly she made her way down and reached the bottom of the room. In the middle stood the King-that-was. Tied with golden chains. Infused with runes and spells. They circled him and the pillar. Binding them into an eternal vow. When Vankka saw the girl he spit at her and started screaming in his native tongue. Unable to accept an honourable defeat. Her sword was restless. Her arm twitching. The battle had tired her. She was keen to get this over with. Words were spoken, impatiently. When they were spoken, she drew her sword and cut her arm, colouring her blade red. The sage moved towards Vankka, until she stood in front of him. A giant man. A little girl. A giant shadow cast over the sage, but she stood tall and looked into the dark eyes of her foe. Fear crept into her mind. What if it did not work. Or made her stronger. A few moments she stood there but the tired mind once again pushed her to hurry. She grasped her blade with all the force she could muster, spoke her words and thrust the glowing blade into Vankka. His eyes never left hers. Filled with rage and anger. With promises of revenge. His body shattered into black stones. They fell to the ground, illuminating the room with a dim gloom. When they touched the floor they turned into dust. The dust took to the sky. Trying to escape. Trying to get away from the ancient force pulling at them. Clouds of dust flew up, away and were pulled towards the tower. On contact they were sucked in. A black shadow entered through the column and moved around. It’s movements angry and angular. Ungraceful but powerful. It was investigating his new home, looking for ways out of the prison. None were found. An eerie silence fell over the peculiar gathering. It would not hold him forever. Most knew that. Most looked exhausted. Sad looks coloured their faces. They knew what had to be done next. Phæ wrapped a piece of cloth around her arm and walked back up, to the surface, to the sky, to her bed. She did not experience the banishment. Her wounds were too much. Her mind too exhausted. A miracle that she found her room in the first place. When she woke up, rested and stronger, all she could see from her windows was the blue light of the world’s aura. She would have preferred to stay in Morkuria. Even though the noble lord of House Wagen had sent out all their horsemen they would not find every Demon left in this world. She knew that they would search for Demonic structures as well, but again, they would not find all of them. And for some the price was too high. She jumped up. Hasty hands finding sword and robe. Her body protested but no muscle could stand against her mind. The Sage ran out of the door and called her Calaxa to fly back down. An act that was now illegal in the Scalian Society. But there were things to do. A visit to an old friend.